Tomorrow
by ProTempore
Summary: Oneshot.Slash. AxL. Arthur can't have everything.


**Tomorrow.  
****AN:** I haven't done KA in awhile so hopefully I get some nice feedback with this. I just want to quickly set this up: this is just after the movie on the wedding night of Arthur and night after the battle. Lancelot didn't die although he was injured.  
**Disclaimer: **I don't own King Arthur or any of the characters used. I also don't own the legend and any reference to the round table.  
**Summary:** Arthur can't have it all.

(**1/1).  
**Arthur had never expected to have Lancelot for long. He was irrational. Impossibly arrogant. And too selfish for his own good. In fact, a lot of times Arthur couldn't stand him.

Arthur's eyes skipped from where Lancelot sat to the rest of the empty table. "You are certainly eager for that meeting tomorrow huh?" Arthur chuckled somewhat at that lame joke he had just attempted hoping that maybe somehow he had eased the excruciating tension that had automatically filled the space between them.

"Eh," he scoffed, "that's your favorite knight for you,"

"Honestly...why aren't you sleeping?"

"Can't,"

"Why?"

"Battle high," he grunted somewhat after saying that, "remember Arthur: I don't have a woman to lull me to slumber,"

"I thought you had one every night...no?" Arthur stopped his pacing to raise an eyebrow at his second in command.

Lancelot hoped that he would get the picture. Or at least the subliminal message under his words. He didn't have a woman. He didn't want a woman. He didn't even necessarily _need_ a woman. This wasn't the reason he stayed up while everyone else went to sleep.

"I may be a good knight but two battles in one day is pushing it,"

"What are you talking about?"

How long could they possibly ignore what needed to be said?

"Vanora. I'm telling you...you think this scar is deep..." Lancelot imagined how much more funnier it would be if Bors had been around. He laughed a little longer than usual so they both could prepare themselves for the next batch of trite small talk.

"You're sick..."

"You aren't with your queen tonight?"

"Gone,"

Lancelot furrowed his eye brows in response.

"Her people are recovering. As so are you,"

It was true. And Lancelot shouldn't have been sitting in the empty conference room at an empty round table with nothing on but his britches and the bandages that were beginning to stain through with his own blood. In fact, Vanora had come around wailing about how there was no need for the Saxons to kill him because he was already working on it.

"Get to bed Lancelot. Even if you _do_ have to find someone to 'lull' you to sleep. Just go,"

"Don't worry Arthur. I heard about Galahad's nightmares. Maybe I can still his shuddering,"

Arthur stopped dead in his tracks. A joke. It had to be.

"Excuse me?"

"I'm sure he would welcome me. It shouldn't take much I say..."

"Are you provoking me Lancelot?"

"Only if your able to be provoked," Lancelot's lips were poison laced. His tongue sharp. For the first time since Lancelot had been an unsufferable child –that gave him hell whenever possible– he wanted to honestly break his jaw. Lancelot was more than a man. They could fight it out. And yet Arthur couldn't touch him. He could scarcely look his way.

"You speak in my face of bedding a child. Should that hurt me Lancelot?"

"You humor me. If Galahad is a child then I've certainly misinterpreted the last fifteen years,"

"What are you sore about Lancelot?"

"Her,"

"And may I ask who is this 'her' we speak of?"

"Guinevere," he grumbled, "do you really love her Arthur?"

"Of course I do," it was said between gritted teeth. A tensed jaw.

"And I?"

Arthur's gaze fell.

"As I thought. Tomorrow then. When you announce the new alliance I will like to take the project," Lancelot rose. He pulled himself together in hopes of somehow walking out of the room without faltering.

"Are you offering yourself up for arranged marriage,"

"I am,"

"And I?" Arthur kept his face pulled tight so he could properly avoid revealing any emotion.

"We can't get everything we want Arthur," Lancelot stopped close to Arthur. H gripped the side of his stomach lightly.

"Not even you,"

"You never _had_ me,"

"In other words this is it,"

"The finality..." Lancelot's voice trailed off as he sighed, finally realizing the weight of his words.

And Arthur wasn't _exactly_ nervous because he knew that this wasn't final at all.

Arthur had never expected to have Lancelot for a long period of time but... somehow he knew that this wasn't final at all. It would never be final. Not while they still had breath in their lungs.

"Tomorrow Lancelot,"

"Gods Arthur... if it ever comes,"

Arthur knew that Lancelot had always been the most child-like out of them all. Even if Galahad was the youngest and most irrational Lancelot was definitely the most selfish. He couldn't see the world in any one else's eyes but his own. It was pointless to argue any point with him. And he was impossible when it came to actual emotions. Arthur had long ago realized that Lancelot never really knew what he wanted. He had dealt with him pushing him away and pulling him back over and over again.

And of course he would continue to. Because honestly, maybe he hadn't _expected_ to have him but he hadn't expected to _need_ him either.

"One of the few things you can count on. Tomorrow _always _comes Lancelot. Even when you're not here to see it. Even when you don't want it. Tomorrow _always_ comes,"

**Review please!!**


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